His name was Peter. He spent the evening telling her stories of Greece as she sat in front of a roaring fire. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. “This means a plunge. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. He flung Ruth aside, careless whether she fell or not. . But—he was cleverer than any of you. A pair of long-lashed blue eyes studied them both as she slowly brought her hands down to rest by her sides. She replied, “I don’t care to draw attention to myself, Michelle.
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